


Remember When it Rained

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 18:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: Grantaire nodded, his expression darkening slightly. “I can’t help but think about it,” he said, his voice low. “Being back here…”He trailed off and Enjolras nodded, staring down into his mug. “It’s been awhile,” he acknowledged. “Since we were in this house, and since—”“Since we were both up at ass o’clock at night, watching the rain together?” Grantaire supplied, with a slightly wry smile. “Yeah. Exactly my point.”Enjolras and Grantaire share a quiet moment early one morning on the cusp of an ending.





	Remember When it Rained

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [deboracabral](https://deboracabral.tumblr.com)‘s incredible [animation](https://deboracabral.tumblr.com/post/187807007098/will-tumblr-let-me-upload-this-edit-yay-it), because it made me so soft and so full of melancholy in the best way possible.
> 
> Naturally, I had to try to ruin it.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!!

“Hey.”**  
**

Enjolras startled at the unexpected greeting and Grantaire raised his hands, laughing lightly. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He crossed over to where Enjolras was leaning against the door, watching the rain fall steadily outside. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Enjolras said, taking a sip from the coffee mug he cradled in both hands.

Grantaire gave him a look. “I’m sure the caffeine at this time of night — or, well, morning, I guess — has absolutely nothing to do with that.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “It’s hot chocolate, but in case you forget, I used to be able to down coffee at all hours of the night and still get a full night’s sleep.”

Grantaire made a disbelieving noise and casually snatched the mug from Enjolras, taking a sip before informing him dryly, “Only if we’re counting a full night’s sleep as three hours now.”

For a moment, it looked like Enjolras might argue with that, but instead he just laughed lightly and took the mug back from Grantaire. “There’s more in the kitchen, you know,” he said, and Grantaire brightened, turning instantly to head back inside, clearly in search of a mug of his own. “And fine, you may have a point. But back in the day I used to actually be able to make it through on three hours of sleep.”

“Well, that and righteous fury,” Grantaire called from the kitchen, and Enjolras rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t help but smile softly. “Besides, back in the day, I used to be able to survive on a lot less than that, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“How could I forget,” Enjolras murmured, staring out at the rain again. 

Grantaire took up the position across from him, intentionally or otherwise mirroring his posture as they both stared at the rain, sipping their hot chocolate. “Do you ever miss it?” he asked suddenly, and Enjolras glanced over at him, startled.

“Miss what?”

Grantaire shrugged. “The good old days, I guess.”

Enjolras shrugged as well, his smile fading slightly. “I don’t know,” he said, after a long moment. “I don’t know if I’ve really thought about it much.”

Though Grantaire nodded, his expression darkened slightly. “I can’t help but think about it,” he said, his voice low. “Being back here…”

He trailed off and Enjolras nodded, staring down into his mug. “It’s been awhile,” he acknowledged. “Since we were in this house, and since—”

“Since we were both up at ass o’clock at night, watching the rain together?” Grantaire supplied, with a slightly wry smile. “Yeah. Exactly my point.” He ran his fingers lightly against the notches in the wood grain of the doorjamb. “I still can’t believe you’re selling this place.”

“I have no use for it,” Enjolras said quietly, but with a steely edge to his voice. “Besides, say what you will about the good old days but that’s never what this house was for me.”

Grantaire looked at him carefully. “Were there any happy memories for you here?”

Enjolras shook his head, looking out at the rain again. “I’m sure there were,” he said finally, after silence stretched between them. “But they’ve been overshadowed, by, y’know.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “I know.”

Again, both men sipped their hot chocolate, and again, it was Grantaire who interrupted the quiet. “I always think of you when it rains,” he said, with a small smile.

Enjolras gave him a look. “If this is about to turn into some kind of metaphor—” he started warningly, and Grantaire just laughed and shook his head.

“No, it’s rather literal,” he said with another laugh. “Remember that night that we were at the Musain until, God, it must’ve been 3 o’clock in the morning at least?”

Enjolras shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching toward a smile. “If memory serves, that was about every other week, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

Grantaire grinned, looking at Enjolras as if seeing him the way they were back then. “You were cramming for something — not for school, I don’t think, so some kind of protest, maybe? Or rally. You were trying to memorize a bunch of talking points but it wasn’t going well. You kept getting distracted.”

“And I’m certain you had absolutely nothing to do with that,” Enjolras said, just a little sourly, and Grantaire’s grin widened.

“Me? Perish the thought.” He took another sip of hot chocolate, staring off into the distance, the smile on his face turning fond. “God, you were so mad that you couldn’t get the statistics you were trying to memorize down. So you huffed that you might as well just go home and I, of course, magnanimously offered to walk you—”

“I’m sure there was nothing in it for you,” Enjolras muttered, and Grantaire ignored him.

“—And then about halfway back, it was like the sky opened. It started downpouring and there you were, hopping mad, in the middle of the street, absolutely drenched, your notecards turning to mush in your hands—”

Enjolras shook his head slowly, his eyes widening in recollection. “Oh my God, I forgot about that,” he said with a soft laugh. “There I was, soaking wet, and you had the nerve to start _laughing_ at me.”

Grantaire laughed again, the bright sound even louder than usual in the quiet room. “Well, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, grinning. “You looked like a drowned rat. And then you actually squinted up at the sky as if you were about to fight Thor or Zeus or Mother Nature herself—”

“But instead, you kissed me.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “It might’ve been a bit of a cliche, but kissing you in the pouring rain was probably the best moment of my life to that point.”

Enjolras made a small noise of agreement as he sipped his hot chocolate. “I know you probably won’t believe me,” he said, “but it was one of the best moments of my life as well.”

“Really?” Grantaire asked mildly, though it looked like he was trying not to grin.

“Well, to that point anyway,” Enjolras said. “And pretty quickly usurped, if memory serves, by us stumbling back here and taking off all our clothes and—”

“And here I thought this place held no happy memories for you.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “The only happy memories I ever had here were with you,” he said quietly. “You know that.”

Grantaire nodded, looking out at the rain again. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess I do.”

Enjolras examined him closely for a moment before asking. “You get why I need to sell it, right?”

“Of course,” Grantaire said instantly. “This hasn’t been your home in a very long time, and I know that.”

“But you still want me to hold on to it.”

Enjolras didn’t pitch it as a question and Grantaire sighed. “For as many unhappy memories as you may have here, all of my memories from here are happy. And I just — I don’t want to let go of that. Not yet.”

“Really.” Enjolras’s tone was incredulous. “Every memory you have here is a happy one. Really?”

“Well—”

“Including the one Christmas when my father told us to leave and never come back, that our ‘lifestyle’ wasn’t welcome under his roof?”

Enjolras’s voice was full of barely-restrained anger, even after all the years that had passed, and Grantaire shook his head. “Of course that wasn’t a happy memory, so to speak,” he said, “but the part afterwards, you have to admit, was pretty gratifying.”

“Which part?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire grinned. “The part where you told him that we’d been enjoying our ‘lifestyle’ under his roof for months now, sometimes several times a day,” he said. “Mainly because I’ll never forget the look on your dad’s face.”

Even Enjolras had to smile slightly at that memory, even if his own smile was somewhat grim. “Ok, I’ll grant you that,” he allowed.

“Besides, it was the first time you ever fought for me.”

Enjolras frowned slightly at him. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Grantaire shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I never wanted to be one of your causes, and thankfully, you got that out of your system pretty quickly, but that moment — that was when I knew that you thought I was something worth fighting for. Not as a cause, but just because, well…”

He trailed off and Enjolras nodded slowly. “Because I loved you.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, draining his cup of hot chocolate. “That.”

He turned as if to head back inside but Enjolras caught his wrist, holding him in place. “You and I have a lot of history here,” he said quietly. “So I get why you don’t want me to sell my parent’s house. But it will always be their house. And the moments that you and I shared here—”

“I get it,” Grantaire said, but Enjolras shook his head and determinedly ignored the interruption.

“The moments that you and I shared here are just that, moments. But the life that you and I built together is not in this house. It’s in our home on the other side of the city, and in a thousand other places where we share so many more happy memories than the ones here, and me selling this house does nothing to take that away from us.” He reached out to twine his fingers with Grantaire’s, to lift Grantaire’s hand to his lips so he could press a kiss to the silver band Grantaire wore on his left ring finger, identical to the one on Enjolras’s. “I may have grown up in this house but the only growing that matters to me is the way you and I have grown together.”

Grantaire nodded, a small, soft smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I know,” he said, leaning in to kiss Enjolras lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Enjolras let go of Grantaire’s hand to instead wrap an arm around Grantaire’s waist, pulling him close, and Grantaire rested his head lightly against Enjolras’s shoulder as they both watched the rain fall. “I still think we should find a way to bring it with us,” Grantaire said.

He didn’t need to look at Enjolras to feel the man roll his eyes. “We’re not bringing it with us,” Enjolras said dismissively.

“But since you’ve burned all your baby pictures, that growth chart notched in the doorjamb is the only proof I have that you were a child once,” Grantaire protested, with enough of a laugh in his voice to show he wasn’t serious. 

Enjolras kissed the top of Grantaire’s head. “We’re not bringing it with us,” he repeated firmly.

“Fine,” Grantaire muttered. “Spoilsport.”

“But if it’ll make you feel better, come morning, I’ll let you take a picture of me with the stupid growth chart,” Enjolras continued, and Grantaire let out a happy gasp.

“Seriously? Hang on, I’m gonna get my phone before you change your mind.”

He thrust his empty mug into Enjolras’s hand and sped off, leaving Enjolras to splutter after him, “I said in the morning, not right now!”

Grantaire returned in what had to have been record time, beaming. “No, it has to be now,” he said, gesturing for Enjolras to pose next to the notches meticulously marked in the wood of the doorjamb along with the corresponding age he’d been at each mark. “Now is the perfect moment, with the rain in the background.”

“You and I have very different definitions of perfect,” Enjolras muttered, forcing a smile for the camera and blinking owlishly after the flash left him temporarily blinded.

“See?” Grantaire said, showing him the picture on his phone. “Perfect.”

Enjolras glanced critically at the picture, at his bedhead and rumpled clothes and slippers, at the bemused expression he wore in the picture and in the moment looking at it. “I’m not entirely sure I’d call it perfect—”

“Your last memory here,” Grantaire interrupted, with a soft smile on his face. “Now it’ll always be a happy one.”

Enjolras swallowed against the sudden emotion that welled in his chest. “Well,” he said, a little gruffly, “you’re not wrong about that.” He pulled Grantaire to him and kissed him again. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” Grantaire told him, and Enjolras kissed him once more.

“I know,” he said. “And I’m so glad we get to spend the rest of our lives making memories together.”

Grantaire’s grin was almost blinding as he whispered, “Sap.”

“Says the man who wanted to make my last memory here happy.”

“Fair enough,” Grantaire said, still grinning, and he took a step away from Enjolras and held out his hand expectantly. “Now c’mon. Let’s go back to bed.”

Enjolras didn’t hesitate, taking Grantaire’s hand and letting Grantaire pull him away from the doorway and the memories they had shared there, the rain still falling steadily as night faded slowly into morning, with new memories soon to follow.


End file.
